


A Good Start

by littlerhymes



Category: Bandom, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlerhymes/pseuds/littlerhymes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TAI are vampire hunters. Loosely based on the Sixteen Candles-verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Start

It starts with Tom's body on the pyre and William's hands shaking around a box of matches.

"Light it," Carden says, "fucking light it, Bill, or I'll do it myself." In the end he snatches the box out of William's hands and makes good on the threat.  

"Better this," he says as the body starts to burn, rough because it's a lesson William ought to already know, that _all_ of them should know, "than coming back."

When the pyre's ablaze and the body mostly cinders, they get in the truck. Siska and the Butcher climb silently in the back; they sit bunched next to one another while the seat that used to be Tom's stays empty. No one talks.

Carden, driving, watches the rearview mirror. The trail of smoke from the pyre behind them gets smaller and smaller in the distance, and finally disappears over the horizon. They pass another burnt-out car on the highway, the truck handling slow but smooth as he veers from one lane to the other and back again. He glances to his right as the truck's course steadies. William's still strung so tight he almost vibrates; his hands are folded in his lap, fingers plucking at the string of beads around his wrist.

 _Where'd you get that?_ he nearly says out loud, but it only takes a moment's thought. He must've taken it from Tom's body, when Carden wasn't looking.

His foot presses down harder on the accelerator and gets them back to base in record time.

*

"Promise me," Carden says abruptly, hours later, as they ready themselves for sundown.

"What?" William says absently, not bothering to look up from lacing his boots.

Carden catches William by the wrist, the beads of the bracelet hard beneath his grip. "If they ever get me, promise you'll make sure I never turn."

"What the fuck, Mike?" William snaps. "How many times are we gonna-"

"I want to hear it again. If they get me then you're gonna do whatever it takes - sun, stake, shotgun, whatever. You'll make sure I don't come back, won't you?" Carden says, his voice hard because it needs to be. 

What he doesn't say: if I'm gone, no one is gonna strike those matches for you the way I did with Tom. 

What he can't say: if I come back, the thing that was me won't stop until you're dead too.

"I promise," William says sullenly, the same promise he's made a hundred times before. He looks away as he says it so it doesn't exactly have the ring of conviction, but it'll have to do.

*

Patrolling is grim work at the best of times but in the nights after Tom, they go about their business with a brutal enthusiasm. For a little while, it's almost safe to walk in Barrington after dark.

"Feels kinda good, doesn't it?" Butcher says with a knowing look, after a knock-down, drag-out fight in a blind alleyway that ends with three more slain to their tally.  

His ribs ache like he's been kicked by a wounded bull and his leg is gonna hurt for days, but Carden doesn't hesitate to agree. "Yeah," he says, and licks at the split in his lip, rolls his shoulders to hear them crack, "feels pretty damn good to me."

Maybe that's where it would have ended - a few reckless fights, a few extra punches - but then Adam tracks a wounded one back to its lair, and everything changes. 

"Is that right?" William says slowly, straightening his glasses at the news. If Adam's count is even half accurate, the hive he's found is the largest group they've ever encountered by a long shot. "Details, Sisky. Start from the beginning."

They take their time to plan it properly, case the premises and source what they need. This takes longer than they expect: explosives and ammo aren't cheap and even on the black market it's no quick task to get the quantity they need if William's plan is going to work.

Eventually a contact of Carden's comes through with the goods: a sleepy-eyed Australian, passing through town on his way to the west coast. William is skeptical at first but even his doubts are silenced when Chiz throws open the doors to his truck to reveal the arsenal within.

"Yeah, I guess that's enough," Carden says at last, trying not to sound too impressed. Christ, with that much dynamite they could burn Chicago to the ground.

Chiz shrugs, hair falling over his eyes. "Yeah. I guess." He ends up selling them what they need at a discount. "Mate's rates," he says.

D-day goes like clockwork. They spend a bright morning planting dynamite and rolling out fuses, before settling into their rooftop positions.

Then they flip the switch and blow Barrington High to smithereens.

Even at a distance the heat and light is intense. The sky'll be black with smoke for hours. "I always did want an excuse to burn that place down," William admits.

Carden lights a cigarette. "Napalm in the morning," he drawls, and watches William slowly smile. 

* 

For a few nights things quiet right down and that's why they make the mistake of believing that the destruction of the hive is the end of something, instead of a beginning.

Carden and Bill get their wake up call soon enough. Bickering idly on their way back from another quiet night of patrol, they see the horizon all lit up with red, and it's not the dawn. Both of them shut up straight away and Carden drives faster and faster, feeling sick to his stomach as he realises every turn in the road back to base brings them closer to the fire.

He pulls the truck up at the warehouse gates - sees the padlock and chain lying broken in the dirt - and before Carden's even turned off the engine, William's hit the ground running. Carden swears and follows, pulling out the machete tucked into the back of his jeans.

They're too late. The warehouse is gone, they see that a glance, gutted by the fire and already falling apart.

Whoever did the damage, and it's not hard to guess who that was, is long gone. Problem is, there's no one else around either. "Could be a good thing," William says, after leaving a fifth message on Siska's cellphone, sounding only slightly ragged. "Adam and Butcher probably went out to get supplies. Or they're looking for us like we're looking for them."

"Yeah," Carden says, checking the ground for blood trails, footprints, signs of a fight. There's nothing. Maybe William is right. Maybe they got out in time.

Yeah, well, or maybe they didn't.

They salvage what they can - some weapons, some supplies - and wait. Hours pass, and Adam and Butcher don't show. With every moment Carden is more sickly certain that they won't be coming back.

"We've got to go," Carden says at last, glancing at the darkening sky.

"Another half hour," William says, though he knows the urgency as well as Carden does. "Half an hour, that's all."

Sun's going down and no time to waste. "I'm not asking. This isn't a fucking bargain, Bill." He grabs William by the arm and pulls.  

"But-"

"No." One of them has to be the bad guy. One of them has to keep them both alive. "Look, if they're out there, we'll find them. And if they're not-"

Then it's already too late. He doesn't need to finish the sentence. William wrenches his arm back and looks away, breathing hard.

After a moment Carden turns his back and gets into the truck. He starts the engine and soon enough William climbs in beside him.

*

It's safer to keep moving so they drive all night, taking turns at the wheel.

Somewhere near dawn Carden glances over and sees William's fallen asleep. He looks younger like that, the furrow gone out of his forehead. Soot streaks along his cheekbone.

It reminds him of how they started six years ago. Just the two of them against the world - except that the back of the van then was loaded up with guitars, amps, and drum kits, instead of crossbows and kerosene.

Yeah, a lot's changed. Carden curls his lip at the understatement. And some things haven't. He glances over again. It'd be easy enough to reach over and rub out that soot streak, press it away with his thumb. It would be easy. But he doesn't.

Now that he's alone with his thoughts Carden can admit it to himself: that there's a small, coal-dark part of him that's grateful it was Butcher and Adam who were taken tonight, and not Bill instead. He's grateful that for one more night Bill is alive and Carden's there with him.

Doesn't matter whether that's a right or wrong way to feel - it just is, and that's how it's always been. Six years later and he's right back where he started.

*

At daybreak they head to a safehouse: a shack downtown leased in their joint names, empty except for a few sticks of furniture.

It's his first real chance at rest in over two days and still Carden can hardly bear to close his eyes. The sun slants hard and bright through a broken slat in the blinds. He throws a hand up to shield his eyes and blinks. Somewhere out there, he thinks, this same light could be on them too. They could be safe. He breathes out and tries to make himself believe it.

From the other side of the bed, William stirs and says, "Mike?"

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough.

After a moment William turns over, the mattress springs squeaking. He moves in close so their bodies lie flush against one another in the narrow bed. William drapes his arm over Mike's waist. "You're thinking too loud," he says against Mike's shoulder. "Go to sleep."

After a while, he does.

He wakes hours later. They're still spooned together, William's bare chest warm against his back and half-hard cock jutting at the back of his thigh. "Mmm," William says sleepily and his hand rubs gently at Carden's belly, then lower.

"Bill," Carden says, getting wakeful real fast, his voice all scratchy. "You-"

"I can stop if you want," William interrupts, his hands starting to tug at Carden's boxers, his mouth hot against Mike's ear. "Do I stop?"

He rasps back, "No." 

"Good," William says, and pulls his boxers down the rest of the way.

It's been a while since they did this - like, years. Since before the plague, before he ever met Adam or the Butcher, before Tom. Long before Tom.

Bill was the one who put an end to it, not the other way around; makes sense Bill's the one to start it again. Maybe Bill doesn't see the point in holding off anymore, since there might not be a tomorrow to regret it; or maybe it's only happening because Tom's gone, because everyone else is dead. Then William pushes him on to his back and crawls to the end of the bed, and the reasons stop mattering. 

Light streaks in through the window to dapple William's face and hair as he swallows Mike down. Mike shudders and feels his hips jerk, out of his control, but William takes him, takes him all in, pulling away only moments before he comes.

William uses a corner of the threadbare sheet to wipe himself clean, staring at Mike with darkened eyes. Between his legs his cock is flushed and thick. "Well?" William says after a moment. "Are you gonna do something or just stare at me? Or should I take care of this myself?"

"Shut up," Mike says, his voice still hoarse, and pulls William back up towards him. Outside the world is waiting, but he'll take this while he can.

*

Two nights later, they take William.

Then they send William after him.

*

"Come on, Santi," says William, just outside the door. "Let me in."

Somehow for all the millions of times that Carden has played out similar scenes in his head, he'd never imagined it would end up like this. He'd always just assumed he would be the first to go, that he'd lay down his life for the cause or some stupid shit.

"Mike," he says, scratching lightly at the door. "Just open up and let me talk to you. I found Sisky and the Butcher, you know. They're waiting for us."

Stake me, cut off my head and torch the coffin - yeah, he'd made William promise him a million times over. William had never asked the same in return. Maybe he just knew Mike better than he did himself - because Mike _knows_ what he has to do and still can't fucking do it. He has a gun, a stake, and half an hour till dawn but his hands are shaking so hard he can hardly load the fucking bullets. He doesn't know how the hell he's going to aim, let alone fire.

"I just want to talk, Mike. I just want to explain. We were wrong - it's not like dying at all," and the thing is he can _hear_ William smiling, "it's like I've just woken up."

He closes his eyes. This is it, he tells himself grimly, this is how it's gonna go. As soon as your hands stop fucking shaking you're gonna open the door and put a bullet through its head and then you're gonna ram this stake through its heart. Bill is dead. Bill is gone. You won't be killing him because he's already dead.

... but what if he's wrong?

"Mike," William says, his voice so soft he has to strain to hear it. He must be right on the other side of the door. His mouth pressed up against the keyhole like a kiss. "Just give me a chance."

Mike forces himself to his feet as quietly as he can, gun in hand. Hands still shaking? Well, fuck it. It's now or never. He pulls the door open with one hand and cocks the gun with the other, both in one moment and-

There's no one there. He blinks.

Then William appears out of nowhere, vampire-fast, and yanks on the barrel of the gun. He pulls and Carden's pulled along with it, and that one staggered step is all it takes for him to be out of the safety of the house and for William to be all over him. His finger catches on the trigger and the gun discharges into air, before William's squeezing his wrist tight enough to snap bone and he lets go of the gun with a gasp.

He'll never know now if he would have had the strength to empty the gun into William's head. As William holds him close, binding his arms to his sides, he's almost glad that the choice has been made for him.

"This isn't the end, Mike," William promises, and christ, he wants so very badly to believe it. "Trust me. This is just the beginning."


End file.
